


No more time wasted

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fanfic based off of fanart, M/M, Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 19:33:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, that was fun,” Stiles snarks, taking a moment to just lean against the wall of what used to be the living room and catch his breath.</p>
<p>Based off of <a href="http://j--o--a--n--n--a.tumblr.com/post/33786187152/that-i-must-by-finncat-blamemarcel-just-me">this piece of art</a>  on Tumblr by by finncat/blamemarcel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No more time wasted

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of this comment and [this piece of art](http://j--o--a--n--n--a.tumblr.com/post/33786187152/that-i-must-by-finncat-blamemarcel-just-me) on Tumblr:
> 
> "Just me that wants Stiles to take charge and just mash his face against Derek’s? Okay."
> 
> It's not just you, darling.

“Well, that was fun,” Stiles snarks, taking a moment to just lean against the wall of what used to be the living room and catch his breath.

Derek eyes him carefully, opting to sit down in one of the few remaining chairs. He opens his mouth, about to speak, and then hesitates. He knows he should say thank you or apologize or do something, since it was, after all, his ass that needed saving this time, but the words just stay trapped on the tip of his tongue.

Once he feels a little less winded, Stiles’s gaze zeroes in on his companion’s lips, still parted. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for whatever Derek needs to get off of his chest.

Another second passes. Two, three, four - when it gets to thirty, Stiles tells himself to hell with it, and strides forward, framing Derek’s face with his spindly hands. Even as Stiles leans down to kiss him, Derek remains frozen, his unique brand of hazel eyes wide and more than a little afraid, because he’s been so careful all this time, keeping Stiles at arms’ length, pretending not to feel anything more than a grudging sort of fondness. What else could he do, when he has so little to offer, and Stiles deserves to have the whole world?

As their mouths crash together, Stiles’s the inexorable wave and Derek’s the helpless shore, all of his hard work is cast away like so much useless debris. He gives into Stiles, gasping and opening himself up to whatever Stiles wants to share. Instead of plundering his mouth, Stiles makes a home for himself there, mapping it out with lips and teeth and tongue, until finally he pulls back, resting his forehead against Derek’s own. “Was there,” he pants, “something you wanted to tell me?”

Half of him wants to growl at Stiles for his insolence, but the other half knows that would have little to no effect after what they just did, and so he opts to thread his fingers through the belt loops of Stiles’s jeans instead. As Stiles starts to lean down this time, Derek tilts his head back to meet him.


End file.
